it's too late now
by szendria
Summary: Julia moves to the Hollow Hill Orphanage at age 16, never imagining the turmoil that drastically altered the world of the Goblins and Elves 100 years ago. Alone, pursued, and afraid of her powers, Lia finds herself inextricably tangled in goblin affairs.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

He was beautiful in an exotic, inhuman way. His face was impassive, his skin a light gray, with a sort of pearly sheen that brought out the sparkle in his coal black eyes. His hair, a rich dark shade of brown, hung in thin dreadlocks down his back. He wore only a dark pair of jeans. Standing, lean and muscled, at well over six feet, he was imposing, terrifying. I woke in a sweat, just as he began to extend a large hand toward me.

Groggy, caught between nightmare and reality, I sat up from underneath my blankets and shook my head to rid my mind of the tendrils of the dream. This wasn't the first oddly realistic dream I had had since I came to England, but it was easily the most vivid. And the most frighteningly alien. A glance at the Mickey Mouse clock near my bed revealed that the time was 5 15. It was some sort of irony that now, removed from New York stress and transplanted into idyllic England, I couldn't sleep through the night. Well, there was little point in trying to sleep now only to rise at 6 00 for breakfast. It wouldn't surprise me if these dreams permanently altered my internal clock.

Now fully awake, I removed myself from the bed to flick on my desk lamp and pull out my Chemistry Practice Questions packet. Over the past two weeks I've found that working with the rational is the best way to combat the vivid, irrational dreams that plague me here. School is also my way out of this mess. I'm a ward of the Hollow Hill Orphanage for 2 years, until I turn 18, so by that time I will have had to have studied hard and won major scholarships to attend college outside of this tiny community. Most kids living here wind up attending the Shyroe Community College, which is around 5 miles away, and then they happily work in the same little local town, Shyroe, that they lived and learned in. But not me. I want out.

Chemistry Packet: Molecular Geometry. Name: Julia Rose Miller, I scrawled across the top of my packet. Date: 12/5/08. First problem: sketch the three resonance structures for SO3. Damn. Maybe I'm not so awake after all. I keep imagining my old Advanced Chemistry class back in New York. I had attended Orange Valley High School up to two weeks ago, and I can still remember each of my 14 chemistry classmates. Sometimes I run through their names, just to make sure I hadn't forgotten any of them. I fear the day I won't remember them well enough to do even that. It's weird to realize that I probably will never see any of them again. Their lives and mine, separated by a car crash that killed my mother, father, sister, brother. Oh damn. Now I really can't concentrate.

I rested my cheek on the desk and let time crawl by in seconds, minutes. I stared at the Mickey Mouse clock, an anonymous gift unwittingly left by some previous occupant. 15 minutes until the alarm will ring to wake up Megan, my roommate. 14 minutes. I guess the roommate situation will train me for college. I try to think of everything in terms of college. It's the only thing I have to look forward to. 12 minutes. I imagine my day. I will dress in this little awkward room with my back to Megan, as I have for the past two weeks. I will eat with the 30 other orphans, aged 4 to 18. I will go to school. I will return to chores and homework. 9 minutes. The weekends are the worst. They drag on like the stories my little brother used to tell. 8 minutes. I started to get ready, gather my clothes, and strip down while my roommate was still unconscious. I still have a lot of my old clothes. Actually, most of them are still in my suitcases. I hadn't unpacked yet because this place doesn't feel like home. 4 minutes. Dressed in jeans and my favorite Stanford sweatshirt, which once belonged to my sister, I lay on top of the blankets on my bed to wait the shrill noise that begins another morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

The late afternoon, in between afterschool chores and dinner, is my favorite time of day. The shadows are just beginning to lengthen, and the kids play on the expansive fields behind the mansion. I can't see Hollow Lake from my perch here on the back steps, but I know that it's just beyond the bucolic plateau, at the base of small cliff. I would love to sneak off and see the sunset, crimson and gold against the inky lake. In all honesty, this part of England, particularly Shyroe, is extraordinarily beautiful. Hollow Hill looks out upon seemingly endless miles of fields and hills and forests, but it is only about 5 miles from the mansion to the nearest town, Shyroe. A bit too far to conveniently walk, but not far enough to justify rousing the ancient automobile. All the kids walk to school, even now, in the winter. And most weekends the older children are permitted to go into the village. I've abstained from theses trips so far, instead exploring the ancient, stately mansion. It wasn't always an orphanage, in fact I think they only converted it about 25 years ago. In the west wing, there are still several unused bedrooms, empty except for old portraits of beautiful girls in outdated dresses. The rooms have the air of a deserted museum, as if everything was left there for a reason, and nothing should be touched.

All in all, it's an odd setting for an orphanage, but most of the caretakers and nearly all of the kids seem to love it. Many of the near-eighteen year olds, like Megan, plan on working as caretakers here after they outgrow their "ward-of-Hollow-Hill" status. I can imagine that it's not a bad place to grow up. I guess they don't feel stifled, surrounded by beauty and the expansive, now star-studded sky.

The night is even more beautiful from the roof, where the terrifically cold winter air makes every starry detail of the sky sharper, clearer. Megan and I live in a small room, on the top floor, where the roofs of the lower levels jut out, forming a nearly flat, 7 foot perch under our window. I had dreamed of a room like this in New York, where I could lie against the roof tiles and admire the purity of the sky, in all of its glory. However, perhaps the greatest feature of our upper-story room is the outdoor fire escape, located several feet to the right of our window. I noticed it on my fourth night at Hollow Hill, but I was afraid to test it out, or even touch it in case it was rusted through and would detach from the side of the mansion. The next morning, after awakening early from another unpleasant dream, I examined it to find very little corrosion, and the ladder ends near enough to the ground so I won't risk life and limb dismounting it. It's depressing that I found the perfect way to sneak out when I have no place to sneak off to.

Megan joined me on the roof perch. She, actually, was the one to show it to me. It was very nice of her, especially considering that she could have easily resented me; before I came, she had the room and this roof to herself. Megan strikes me as a very considerate, gentle girl. She's so looking forward to turning 18, when she can graduate from ward-status and shoulder some caretaker responsibilities. To be honest, it's a bit hard for me to relate, but we've developed a sort of quiet comradeship over the weeks I've been here.

We sit side by side without talking for a bit, but eventually she breaks the silence. "Do you miss New York?" she asks.

"Mm? Oh. Yeah. I mean, it's beautiful here. Really beautiful," I began, trying to figure out how to translate my emotional wounds into English. "And everyone is so nice," I continued, throwing her a small smile. "But it could never feel like home."

"You haven't given it a chance. You don't even try to get to know any of the other wards, and you haven't even gone with us to Shyroe. I bet if you were willing to just try, even just a bit, you might not be so miserable, and you certainly won't feel isolated."

I guess I hadn't given Megan enough credit. Gentle and perceptive. She would certainly make a great caretaker. I digested her words for a while. "I guess I just see this as a short stop. Like a glitch or something," I felt awful after saying it, but it was true. I didn't feel at home because I wasn't letting myself.

Luckily Megan laughed. "That's exactly your problem," she said. "Why don't you come with us tomorrow? To Shyroe? I'm sure it's got nothing on New York City, but we could show you around. Its nice, it really is," she encouraged.

"Alright," I agreed. "Alright."


	3. Chapter 3

**chapter three**

The day of the Shyroe trip dawned crisp and bright. I was wide awake long before Megan, thanks to another nightmare, this time involving shorter, a more regal monster, whose skin appeared decorated by thick, criss-crossing black lines, and whose hands nearly succeeded in grabbing me before I woke up. It wasn't the most auspicious start to the day, but Megan's enthusiasm proved to be contagious, and I found my spirits lifting despite the long walk to Shyroe. Megan was right, it was easier to feel comfortable when I tried to be engaged, and the seven other wards on the trip, aged 15 to 18, made an effort to keep me included in their discussion of local legends.

"Do you really think there were once goblins in these hills?" asked Nicole, animatedly peering over the ingenuous landscape. She was a vivacious fifteen year old, well liked by everyone, especially James.

"Just stupid legends," scoffed Bernard, James's younger brother.

"Easy for you to say. You're too ugly for the goblins to ever bother with!" teased Nicole.

"And too male," laughed James.

"What do you mean?" I inquired

"Well, according to legend," began James, in a knowledgeable voice that fit his authority as the oldest ward, "there were once hideous goblins living under theses hills, and every few decades, when their king needed a bride, they would rise from the ground and steal whatever some beautiful, unfortunate girl living at the Hollow Hill Mansion. They would take her," he continued, adopting a more ominous tone, "down into the depths of their kingdom, and she would never be heard from again."

"Well the tales about the goblins suck," pouted Nicole prettily.

"I prefer the stories about the elves, too," agreed Megan. She turned to me, "you see, while the goblins lived underground, the beautiful elves lived in the forest, and their king also sometimes selected a human bride from Hollow Hill." She sighed, "Those tales are full of laughter and dancing."

"Hey, that reminds me," broke in Eric, James's roommate, "isn't today the day of the Shyroe Festival?"

"Holy crow, you're right!" exclaimed Megan. "I totally forgot. I wish I had worn something nicer," she finished wistfully, looking down at her mismatched outfit.

Nicole turned her shining green eyes towards me, "each year," she explained, "there's a huge festival at Shyroe, with dancing, games, food."

"Fortune-telling," added James teasingly, his eyes smiling at her.

"Yes, fortune-telling," Nicole agreed, laughing. "Last year, the fortune-teller told Sarah her fortune. But Sarah still won't tell us what she said," said Nicole, turning to her best friend and roommate.  
"Yup. I still won't say," declared Sarah, mock-imperviously. "But I will say that Madame Nadinna has never been wrong." Sarah smiled.

"Ooo, did she tell you about love?" mocked Henry, Bernhard's roommate.

"Haha. You wish," retorted Sarah.

"Yea, he does," giggled Victoria, the youngest in our group, and a bit giddy with excitement from her first trip to Shyroe with the older wards.

"Shhh," admonished Megan, as Henry was turning red. "We're almost there."

* * *

Hi! I hope you are enjoying my story! please please review (and thank you to c.a.s.1404 for reviewing!)


	4. Chapter 4

**chapter four**

We descended from the final hill to see the streets of the small town alive with people and colors. Megan had us stick close together as we wormed our way toward the dancing section. "Okay everyone," she screamed over the music, "grab a buddy and stick with them! We'll meet up in three hours, at the same trail we came here on."

The other wards dispersed, leaving me with Megan and the gypsy-inspired music.

We danced our hearts out to the bewitching tunes, song after song.

Laughing, we eventually fled the crowd of pulsating bodies, and wandered around the stands, admiring the wares, until we came to Madame Nadinna's tent.

"Would you like to go first?" asked Megan, politely, but I jokingly told her I'd rather stand guard for her outside, so she slipped into the tent.

By the time she emerged, looking happy and excited, I had abandoned my post and was sprawled on the hard ground. Brushing off my jeans, I stood up, a bit chilled from resting on the nearly frozen soil while I waited.

"Go, go," encouraged Megan, "She's so good! Oh I hope everything she predicted comes true!"

I entered dark tent and was struck by how beautiful Madam Nadinna was. Seated on a satin cushion, she looked like some sort of delicate porcelain figurine. Her flowing, dark brown tresses and wide, dark blue eyes threw me. And I was not expecting the fortune-teller to have such great skin. She must have noticed my confusion, because she waved me in and motioned for me to sit on the cushion across from her. She smiled at me, straightened her back, and closed her eyes.

"I see loss in your past, and more loss in your future," she began in a clear, musical voice. "Change is coming, and perhaps not the kind you anticipated. You are in danger." Her eyes snapped open. "You are in danger," she repeated, "but it is not the kind you can run from."

Suddenly she reached over and grabbed my left hand to continue, almost in a trance, "There is a power in you, a latent power that calls them to you. It is woven into the fiber of your being, and they can sense it, even if they don't yet recognize it. They want you for it. They will try to take you for it. You must fight, even if it may seem futile. Do not go gently." She frowned and sighed. "When they come for you, reach into yourself to unleash your power, it is your greatest weap-" She paused, "your only chance." She released my hand, but I continued to stare at her, unnerved.

"You may ask one question." She peered at me, waiting, but I really had nothing to say.

She sighed again, not disappointed, but resigned. Then she leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "There," she said, looking satisfied, "that should buy you some time." But the satisfaction faded from her face as she regarded me, and she looked older and sadder than she had when I entered.

I left, feeling unsettled, my left hand tingling from her hold and my forehead tingling from her kiss.

That night was the first night since arriving in England that I slept without a nightmare.


End file.
